


Sloppy Dead

by evanescentwoodnymph



Series: Widowmaker Drabbles [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Freeform, Gen, Literary References & Allusions, Suicidal Ideation, some violence, this prose is almost as purple as widowmaker's skin-- be warned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-20
Updated: 2018-03-20
Packaged: 2019-04-05 01:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14033682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evanescentwoodnymph/pseuds/evanescentwoodnymph
Summary: When the men on the chessboard get up and tell you where to goAnd you've just had some kind of mushroom, and your mind is moving low





	Sloppy Dead

Pulled from unconsciousness, she opens her eyes. Panel ceilings above her. The air is somewhat chilly, but it doesn’t bother her. She sits up. Some caged rabbits feed from a food dish. Aside from them, she seems to be the only person alive in this room. 

Beside her is a metal table, there are two items on it, each with a note. The first is an amber bottle, the note reading: ‘drink a cap-full.’

She has no reason to assume anything bad would come out of it. She feels disoriented enough to assume she has had some kind of health issue. Everything is a bit fuzzy. She remembers seeing red hair. 

No that wasn’t right. Red paint. Her bed sheets were white, so she painted them red... 

Shaking off that nonsensical thought, she drinks the medicine. 

The next are a bottle of tablets. 

‘Eat one.’ 

Sure, fine. 

_Tastes like candy_ , she decides. 

The lighting in here is a little odd, she notices. Her arms seem blue. No one is around, and she’s not attached to anything. Maybe she can be discharged. There’s someone she wants to see. Who? 

Her head hurts a bit, but she finally decides it’s her husband. Where was he? Getting up, she walks to the door that she can only assume is the exit. If she could find the charge nurse... 

First, however, she catches a glimpse of herself in the reflective door. She wears a dark tunic with a weird insignia on it. She can’t tell if it’s supposed to be a womb or the letter ‘t’. 

Stepping out, she walks down an empty hall. Strange for a hospital. There is no equipment or nurses... 

Finally, she reaches another set of doors, and she’s in a more open room. The waiting room perhaps? Her husband might be here... 

Instead, she finds a man standing alone, smoking. 

He’s  _actually_  smoking. She swears she just saw dark tendrils curling around him... 

“Monsieur?” 

He turns around. He’s masked. Things are quiet for a moment as they observe each other. 

“Who are you?” he asks. 

Shouldn’t she be asking the same question? 

She’s so disoriented, though, she doesn’t know what to say. 

“I hardly know, Monsieur. I don’t really feel like myself...” In fact, she doesn’t feel much of anything. Disorientation and confusion are more her state of mind. 

“You don’t?” 

“Well, no. I don’t know where I am. I imagine I’ve been hurt, but I’ve blacked out somewhere...”

“You don’t remember?” 

“No... But I’m looking for my husband. Can you help me find a phone... or something?” 

“No.” 

She was taken a little aback that this blunt comment. 

“Should have kept your temper, Lacroix.” 

And with that he fades away. He’s a puff of violet smoke, completely dematerializing. 

Now she’s alone again. Hearing her last name causes her to still. Everything starts clearing up in her mind. She is equally overwhelmed, yet unmoved. Her memories are so vivid that she can smell blood. 

She remembers how  _hurt_  she was. God, it hurt so bad. She realised that she was tricked, and she was so angry. They said such terrible things about him! She was going to go back and kill them all! For making her believe all of it. And then kill herself for believing it in the first place! 

But they stopped her. 

And now the pain is gone. They took it all away. She can’t feel anything. She clutches her chest, almost to invoke anxiety externally, but there’s nothing. Her heartbeat is relaxed, she can hardly feel it. She replays the murder again and again in her head and it’s like she’s remembering through the lens of someone completely different. 

He’s gone... She’s gone... 

What did they do to her?

**Author's Note:**

> comment if you like.  
> title and summary are lyrics from 'white rabbit' by jefferson airplane  
> allusions are from alice's adventures in wonderland by lewis carroll (who was a prick.)


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